Harsh Truth
by CrazyReader004
Summary: Waking up in the infirmary at the end of his first year, Harry is faced with a difficult truth. Yet he should remember, as should we all, that love, not blood, is the truest magic of them all.


A flash of gold flickered across his vision. Catch. He should catch it. Why should he catch it? Right, the snitch. Quidditch. He must win. His broom was strangely comfortable, though. The cushioning spell truly felt like a bed and blankets. Wood would be jealous. Who were they playing again? Oh yeah, Quirrell…

Quirrell!

Green eyes snapped open and a fuzzy white room appeared. A fumbling hand reached for glasses as Harry struggled to sit up. He had to get to Dumbledore. He was their last chance of stopping Quirrell from getting away. Who knew how far away he was now, while Harry slept in the infirmary…

Wait, infirmary? When did he get here? He stopped struggling for a while, trying to remember. A quiet chuckle tore him from his thoughts.

"Well Harry, finally awake?"

"P-Professor Dumbledore!" A surprised 11 year-old looked to his right, where an old man was standing beside his bed. He fleetingly thought that he must have mistaken his golden glasses for the snitch, before forcing himself to concentrate. "You've got to help me! Professor Quirrell, he went after the Stone, sir! I mean, I thought it was Snape, but it wasn't, and I tried stop him, and I don't know, but he's got to be far now! Please sir, I know I'm a kid, but listen to m– "

"It's fine, Harry, I know. Quirrell was stopped and the Stone was destroyed. You did well."

"O-oh. But how, sir? I don't really remember much." He looked down, ashamed to be reminded of his fainting, his weakness.

"Again, do not worry, my boy. Miss Granger was more than happy to provide me with a very detailed description of the event, up until your separation. As for afterwards, I think I can figure out what happened."

Harry listened as the story of the night was unfolded before him. His mum's love had protected him. He was amazed, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. To be object of such protectiveness, such love, for him, someone who wasn't welcomed in his own home, it was incredible. And yet one detail continued to bother him. It was probably nothing, just some strange whisper, a flutter of the air, but still…

"Professor? Just, I mean, it all sounds very good, but, there's one thing… I felt it. The magic, I mean. It was very protective and all, but vengeful too. Like it couldn't believe that someone would harm one of their own. But, that's impossible, isn't it? I'm not one of Voldemort's, right? There's no way we're related, there's no way he's my fa—" He stopped himself right there. He couldn't believe he'd almost let that slipped. Not that it meant anything. It was just some strange feeling he had, it wasn't true, it couldn't be.

He chanced a glance at the Headmaster. Dumbledore seemed conflicted, unsure of the right decision to make. Dread came over him; the desperation he hadn't known he was fighting took him over. He felt disgusted. Tainted. Dirty. Even before Professor Dumbledore had completed his sentence, he knew what he would say. His whole body recoiled as the Headmaster's lips formed the words that would forever haunt him.

"No, Harry… He is your father."

He wanted to deny it. He wanted to scream and shout that no, no it wasn't possible. But one look at Dumbledore's eyes stopped him. They were no longer alight with their usual twinkling. Instead, a dark, serious shadow covered the blue orbs, making Harry realize the harsh reality of the truth.

"But how? I … I thought my Dad was James…" A sudden realization made him feel even colder, if that was possible. "What about my Mum? Who is she?"

A deep sigh came from the teacher's lips. At this moment, he looked every inch the weary old man he was, as though the very weight of what was to come had drained him of vital energy.

"Your mother really is Lily Potter. That, at least, was true. As for your father… It is not a pretty story, Harry, and definitely not for one so young. Yet, I suppose you've earned the right to hear it. After facing such grave danger, last night, you deserve the truth. But think carefully, Harry, before you decide to hear it or not. Once heard, this tale cannot be forgotten, and I fear it will unnecessarily worry you."

The boy thought for a moment. Did he really want this? He couldn't help but remember playing as a little kid with his lead soldiers, fantasizing that the strong, heroic general was his father who had come to save him. The truth was something else. His father was nothing but a cowardly murderer, sneaking into a house to kill a baby. But it was also the truth, the harsh, cold truth. He had lived long enough with the Dursley's lies to develop a craving for reality, however cruel it may be.

"Tell me," Harry said in a low, firm voice. "Tell me the truth."

"If that is your wish, my boy." Dumbledore waved his wand and conjured a comfortable armchair before sitting down. His eyes took on a faraway look as he began his tale.

"The night your parents died was not their first encounter with Voldemort, far from it. Lily and James were a part of an organization, if you want, dedicated to fighting him. Twice, they fought him on a battlefield, and miraculously survived thanks to their friends. On the third time, however, they were not so lucky. They were both kidnapped and brought to the enemy's base, the Lestrange's manor – though we did not know it at the time.

Now, your parents were head figures of the resistance at the time. Therefore, Voldemort did not wish to kill them, but rather display them, as war trophies. He first had to break them. I will spare you the details of their torture, my dear boy, for no man, old or young, should hear such atrocities. But they endured it valiantly, and the Dark Lord had to turn to other ways."

The Headmaster stopped for an instant, seemingly gathering himself. His face shone with regret, and sympathy, as he continued his tale.

"In a most cowardly act, he decided to attack the one weakness he saw in Lily. Her womanhood. With only James as a witness, he violated her in the most terrible way. He never told any of his followers, for Lily was a muggleborn, and such… intimacy with her would have been seen as debasing.

Your mother, however, was not so easily broken. As the wards surrounding their cell were brought down for Voldemort to pass through, she used her last strength to disappear. Magic does strange things when we're desperate, Harry, for better and for worst. It took her and James to a safe place, and we were able to retrieve them. "

Professor Dumbledore turned his head to Harry then, no longer sad, but rather alight with affection for the boy before him.

"When the Potter's learned Lily was pregnant, two months later, they quickly figured out who the father was. Yet James decided to take you as his. He would not tell people of your true parentage, doubtlessly hoping to save you from prejudices. When you were born, his eyes lit up as though you were his true child. He gave you his name, and swore to love you and protect you.

No matter what happens, Harry, remember this: Your father – for James was your father in all but blood – loved you. He loved you enough to die for you, and I am sure, wherever he is now, he loves you still. Never forget that, Harry."


End file.
